


point of no return

by brendonurie



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Thanks, i dont even know how to tag this, its just like, semi canon fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brendonurie/pseuds/brendonurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ryan is nervous about getting his first tattoo, so brendon helps calm him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	point of no return

Ryan wakes to the sounds of pans clanging against the stove, dishes hitting the counter, and the sharp tings of silverware. His head throbs behind his eyes and his stomach growls angrily. He rolls over on the sofa and falls back to sleep.

 

Only twenty minutes later, Brendon is jostling him awake again.

"No, no, just five more minutes, please."

"Ryan, it's one in the afternoon." Brendon moves to sit in the space on the couch that Ryan leaves. "Come on, dude. I just finished cooking. Get up."

Ryan groans and tosses his blanket over Brendon's head. "Fine, but I'm not getting dressed until I have to." Ryan quickly throws himself over the back of the sofa, landing sloppily on his feet. He scrambles into the kitchen in just a borrowed pair of gym shorts. They may as well be his, really. Brendon only keeps track of them so Ryan can use them when he spends the night. Ryan starts to make himself a plate.

"You know, when I mentioned that drinking a little might help, I didn't mean you should start twenty-four hours in advance." Brendon sidles up to Ryan at the stove.

Ryan starts at his voice. "Yeah, well, you know me."

"Yeah, I do; you're nervous as shit over everything ever."

"Yeah, and? Don't act like you're never nervous." Ryan slouches over his plate at the tiny table.

"I never said that. I'm just saying that you're kinda blowing it out of proportion." Brendon's chair scrapes against the floor as he takes the seat across from Ryan. "If you're nervous, then maybe you shouldn't do it."

"What? Dude, you know how badly I want this."

"I mean, I'll support you, I'll go with you and shit, but I won't be holding your hand through it."

Ryan scoffs at that. "I don't need you to hold my hand, I just want you to go with me, alright?"

"Fine."

They eat in silence. Brendon wolfs down his food and goes for seconds before Ryan's even put a dent in his. He pushes his food around on his plate a little before pushing it away. Brendon takes their plates to the sink and returns to his seat. He leans forward on the table and rests his elbows on it, fingers lacing together.

"Okay, dude. What's eating you?"

"I'm anxious as hell."

"I know that. Why, though?"

"I'm just... Kinda worried what the artist will think. I'm afraid of needles. I have a horrible pain tolerance."

"Dude, you're getting a tattoo tonight. You can't be worried about that stuff."

"Yeah, well, like I said, man. You know me." Ryan picks at the callouses on his fingers, making an effort to avoid eye contact. He's always been anxious over even the littlest things, and it often interrupts his daily life. When he met Brendon, though, things changed a bit. He still got anxious just as often, but it was less severe now. Brendon always knew just what to do and what to say to calm him down, something even Spencer never got good at.

"Hey, it'll be great, okay? The artist probably doesn't really give a fuck what tattoo you get, and we'll talk the whole time. You won't even notice it." Brendon reaches out and places his hand over Ryan's restless fingers. "Trust me."

Ryan sighs and lets his hands fall onto the table, Brendon still holding onto them. He silently wishes it was that easy. "Brendon, you don't understand. I just don't know if I can do it. But it's so important to me."

"Then you are just gonna have to do it, huh? What are you getting, anyway?"

"I'm getting 'mad as a hatter; thin as a dime'."

"Where?"

"Here." Ryan twists his arms slightly to show the insides of his wrists. Brendon moves to hold both of Ryan's hands with his.

"That's really cool, Ryan."

"It'll only be cool if I manage not to get up and leave halfway through." Ryan starts to take his hands back.

"Well, I'll make sure you stay put. I'm willing to bet the artist will too." Brendon quickly grips Ryan's wrists.

"I'm getting anxious just thinking about it. My wrists are itching just from you touching them, dude. Let go." Ryan tugs a little, but Brendon holds fast.

"Well, here. Let me try something else, then." Brendon pulls Ryan's wrists a little closer to him over the table. He slowly leans over and Ryan is confused until he feels the soft warmth of Brendon's lips on his skin. Ryan's eyes widen at the realization and he's shocked still. He hears and feels Brendon's breath as he pulls back to plant a kiss on Ryan's other wrist.

Brendon pulls back again, just a little. "How do you feel now?" His voice comes barely above a whisper and his eyelashes flutter against Ryan's skin.

Ryan can hear the blood pumping through his veins and he can feel his heart about to burst from his ribcage. "I'm getting better."

"Good." Brendon leans in to kiss Ryan's wrists again, but Ryan twists his arms again to grip Brendon's wrists. He pulls on them, bringing him closer. The table keeps them from getting as close as he wants, but they rest their foreheads against each other, eyes locked on lips.

"Ryan, I --"

"Shut up." Ryan lets go of one of Brendon's hands and tugs on the other until he gets up and moves to the other side of the table. Ryan leans back in his chair and pulls Brendon down to straddle him.

"Ryan, really, we don't have to."

"Brendon, shut up. I want to." Ryan watches as Brendon's face twists in to a grin. It's a little infectious, Ryan finds.

The weight of Brendon on his lap is exciting on it's own. Ryan's hands move restlessly along Brendon's back, feeling the taut muscles beneath and moving along the top curve of his ass. Brendon's hands rest on either side of Ryan's waist; his only movement is the slightest tremble.

Cautiously, Brendon leans down to close the distance. Ryan reaches up to meet him. Their lips all but crash together, but they still manage to fit perfectly. The kisses start out soft and simple, and Ryan feels himself melting into each one. They've never kissed like this before, and Ryan makes a mental note to do it more often.

Brendon pulls away to trail kisses from the corner of Ryan's mouth to his neck. He leaves wet kisses all over before biting down where Ryan's neck and shoulder meet. Ryan digs his fingernails into Brendon's back through his shirt and just manages to stifle a groan. Ryan grinds his hips up to find friction at the same moment that Brendon grinds down to give it to him. He can't contain the noise that comes from that.

Brendon leans back to smile at Ryan, who promptly smiles back, for once. Their teeth click as they kiss again, smiles still stuck on their faces.

"Bed?"

"Yeah."

They both stand and Ryan starts toward the bedroom. Brendon grabs his hand and laces his fingers with Ryan's. Ryan looks back at him and smiles.

 

Brendon practically rips off Ryan's shorts and scratches him in the process. He quickly kisses and licks the bright red scratches before focusing on Ryan's erection. Brendon's breathing is ragged as he lowers his mouth down onto the swollen head. The sheer heat and wetness of it nearly causes Ryan to sit straight up. He grasps at sheets that aren't there and fleetingly wonders how long Brendon's bedding has been sitting in the dryer. Brendon hollows his cheeks around the head of Ryan's cock, drawing another moan from him. He leisurely swirls his tongue around it before ducking down and swallowing his length. Ryan sighs from the pleasure and quickly decides he wants more.

"Brendon."

"Yeah, babe?"

"Let me fuck you. Please."

Brendon crawls up to meet Ryan's face. "Well, how can I say no when you ask so nicely?" He gets a devilish little grin on his face as he leans in to kiss Ryan, his tongue quickly and shamelessly slipping into his mouth. He pulls away with a smack to fish something out of a bedside drawer. Ryan begins to work his pajama pants and briefs down.

Brendon finally gets the lube out of the drawer, so he leans in to kiss Ryan before flopping down next to him. They effectively switch positions and Ryan sits back on his legs to slick up his fingers. He breathes hard in anticipation. Brendon watches raptly as Ryan smooths the lube along his fingers.

Ryan leans down between Brendon's parted legs to run his tongue along his cock. At the same time, he slides his hand between Brendon's cheeks and gets his finger right up against his hole. Brendon makes a quick, choked sound in his throat at the sudden rush of contact. Ryan doesn't wait to be prompted and pushes his finger into Brendon, earning him a full moan from deep in Brendon's chest.

Ryan's head swims with pleasure and excitement. It's been a good few weeks since they had sex; it's about time.

After working Brendon open with one finger, Ryan quickly slips another in without warning. Ryan smiles to himself as he watches Brendon mimic his earlier motions of grabbing at bedclothes that aren't there. Then, he busies himself watching his fingers slip in and out of Brendon. The sight makes his gut heat up with want -- no, need. He crooks his fingers within the boy he's got captured, writhing on his own bed and watches his eyes fly open and then flutter shut.

"Ryan, Ryan, Ry, please. Please."

"What?"

"I want it. I want you."

"Mm. You got it, babe."

Ryan grabs the lube again, this time to get his leaking erection ready. He moves closer to Brendon and slides his cock up to his hole. Brendon whines a little, urging Ryan on. Ryan pushes the first inch into Brendon. They both moan and pant at the pressure. Ryan slips the rest of himself in, gripping hard on Brendon's shoulders -- Gripping for physical and mental stability.

Ryan slowly thrusts in and out, torturing Brendon and himself in the process. He soon loses feeling in his fingertips but he doesn't mind. As he picks up his pace, Brendon runs his hands along Ryan's chest and eventually finds his own cock; he's begun to leak on Ryan's stomach. Once Brendon begins to help himself, Ryan thrusts in _hard_ , at just the angle Brendon loves. Ryan watches his face screw up in pleasure and his eyes roll back in his head for just a second. In the same instant, he cries out Ryan's name.

"Fuck, Bren, you're so, just, God."

Ryan thrusts hard and fast, working himself to orgasm quickly. His eyes clench shut and his toes curl into the mattress as he empties his semen into Brendon. In this moment, he supposes he could love Brendon.

After riding out his own orgasm, he slips out of Brendon to help him with his. At his departure, Brendon protests, but it quickly transitions to a moan as Ryan's head sinks down on Brendon's cock. Ryan hollows his cheeks around Brendon and slips his tongue over his slit. Ryan then runs teasing fingertips over Brendon's balls, and Brendon moans unabashedly at this. He comes quickly after, Ryan swallowing it down as it comes.

Ryan lays next to Brendon, chest still heaving and fingers still lifeless. He notes the ringing in his ears and the slight tunnel vision and wonders if that's love.

 

"Okay, dude, you ready?" Brendon undoes his seatbelt after turning the car off.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess." Ryan fidgets with the zipper on his jacket.

"Here. How about this? I've been wanting a tattoo too. I'll get mine first, you can watch and see how you feel about it. Then, if you still want to, we'll get yours."

Ryan considers this. It doesn't take long for him to reach a conclusion. "Yeah. That sounds good. Let's do that."

"Awesome! Here we go, man!"

The pair saunter into the tattoo parlor, and begin working out details with the guy at the counter.

 

"Alright, buddy, I'm gonna get started, okay?" The artist turns out to be a girl. She's really sweet, and Ryan appreciates the fact that she didn't laugh at his tattoo and that she's being so nice.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Okay, point-of-no-return, here we come!"

Ryan swallows at that. He looks up at Brendon, who's standing with a newly plastic-wrapped arm above him.

"Hey, I mean, you knew that. Point-of-no-return? I mean, it's a tattoo, Ry."

Ryan nods. "Hey, I know I said I didn't want you to --"

"Of course I'll hold your hand, Ryan."

The artist stifles a laugh at that. But it's the point-of-no-return of caring for Ryan.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again zena for the wonderful prompt!!!!


End file.
